


if we're talking body

by framboise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Rare Pair Week 2018, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Character of Color, Flirting, In which Jon continues to treat his women right, Romance, Summer Vacation, Weddings, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 07:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/framboise/pseuds/framboise
Summary: "You know, your aunt said you were a bit of a disaster," she says as Jon lies on his yoga mat looking wrecked after the advanced yoga class they've just taken under the pagoda at the island resort Dany has hired out for her wedding to Khal Drogo."Well, she had only nice things to say about you," he says, groaning as he sits up on his elbows. He's fit, Jon, in a brooding, messy sort of way, and she can tell he spends lots of time in the gym, but he's an idiot to have jumped straight into an advanced class after admitting that he had never done any yoga before. "I don't want you to think I'm not flexible," he says, twisting his back to make it pop, grunting at the stretch, biceps straining at his white t-shirt.OK, so Jon is really fit, Missandei admits, and the sound of that grunt certainly conjures up all sorts of interesting images. "I mean, you're not flexible," she says, "that's just a statement of fact, it's not a value judgement."





	if we're talking body

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for day 7 of [asoiaf rarepair week](https://asoiafrarepairs.tumblr.com/post/173749507007/asoiafrarepairs-weve-all-seen-fandom-events).
> 
> and if you want visuals, I made a graphic [here](https://framboise-fics.tumblr.com/post/175378663527/you-know-your-aunt-said-you-were-a-bit-of-a#notes)

 

 

"You know, your aunt said you were a bit of a disaster," she says, as Jon lies on his yoga mat looking wrecked after the advanced yoga class they've just taken under the pagoda at the island resort Dany has hired out for her wedding to Khal Drogo.

"Well, she had only nice things to say about you," he says, groaning as he sits up on his elbows. He's fit, Jon, in a brooding, messy sort of way, and she can tell he spends lots of time in the gym, but he's an idiot to have jumped straight into an advanced class after admitting that he had never done any yoga before. "I don't want you to think I'm not flexible," he says, twisting his back to make it pop, grunting at the stretch, biceps straining at his white t-shirt.

OK, so Jon is really fit, Missandei admits, and the sound of that grunt certainly conjures up all sorts of interesting images. "I mean, you're not flexible," she says, "that's just a statement of fact, it's not a value judgement."

He raises his eyebrows as he gulps down water from his sparkly pink water bottle. _Gag gift?_ she had remarked as he set it down at the beginning of the class. _Nope_ , he had replied nonchalantly, _I bought it for myself_.

She had tried not to be a tiny bit impressed by that, after several years of going on a series of horrendous first dates with men who seemed determined to prove their masculinity at all opportunities - _I wouldn't be caught dead moisturising_ , one had said when walking past an advert for men's skincare, as if having dry scratchy skin was something to be proud of; _I'm not really one for cooking_ , another had remarked as she had tried not to roll her eyes; _this doesn't look purple, this shirt, does it_ , one man had asked her worriedly as he came back from the toilets, before she got one of her brothers to text her a fake emergency.

In the pagoda, its walls open to the stunning views of the coastline, a warm breeze lifts the curls from the back of her neck and she stretches her toes and smiles at the heat of the day, a blessing after a third winter spent at Dragonstone working with Dany.

"I can be flexible when it counts," he protests as he wipes water from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hmm, I'd say I'll believe it when I see it, but I've just seen you struggle to do a child's pose," she says, trying to ignore the blush she can feel on her cheeks. It's just that his mouth looks like _that_ , and his beard looks like it would rub against her skin nicely. It's been a dry few months, she can admit that, a dry few years if you're talking orgasms that didn't come from a vibrator or her own hand.

He smirks and stretches his arms over his head and then winces, which makes her snort a laugh.

"Don't mock me," he says, "I'm in pain."

She stands up and holds a hand out to him. He takes it, his palm warm and dry, and clambers upright.

"Let me buy you a drink, to show you I'm not a complete disaster," he says, squeezing her fingers and then letting go to pull the hairtie out of his hair. 

 _You both have curly hair_ , Dany had said on the plane ride over, tipsy on the complementary rum cocktails the air hostess had brought them when she saw the bride-to-be sash Missandei had forced her to wear. Dany was a consummate romantic and was desperate to set her single friends up, espousing at great length the joys of love and getting so emotional if you said you thought you'd be single forever that you ended up comforting her. _You're made for one another, you'd have the cutest babies._

 _Dany, you just said he was a bit of a mess_ , she had said, swathing her shoulders in the thick scarf she had brought with her for the chill of the plane.

 _A mess in the best way_ , Dany had said, waving her hand. _He's nice, you'll like him_.

He does seem nice, but maybe that's her libido talking, Missandei thinks as they stroll down the sandy path to the beach bar. Her shoulders have loosened in only one day here, and it's not just the yoga, it's the sun and the whole week stretching ahead of her before she has to go back to work.

"So what did Dany say about me," she asks, ducking under a palm frond he holds out of the way for her as they take a shortcut through a patch of dry grass.

"Oh, that you're kind, and lovely, and clever, and the best friend she could wish for," he says as he bends down to jam the flipflop he keeps almost tripping over back onto his foot. "And beautiful, of course," he says, smiling easily at her as they reach the bar. "Although I'm not sure your mockery over my struggles with this morning's yoga can be classified as _kind_."

"You're a bit of a charmer, aren't you," she says, as he holds out her chair before sitting down opposite her, stretching his arms out over the sides of the bench. He's pale enough to blind, is Jon Snow, and his nose is pink from the sun already, but it still works for him, she thinks.

"I try my best," he says and then does an odd blinking motion.

"Was that meant to be a wink?" she mocks, as the barman strolls over to take their order.

"It might have been," Jon says, ordering the Sea Breeze like her.

That's another tick in the right box, him ordering a fruity cocktail, but then maybe she's got low standards.

"So," he says, settling back in his seat, "Dany says you did languages at university."

"Yup," she says, sipping on her drink, pursing her mouth at the pleasing tartness and waiting to hear the inevitable request for her to perform a trick. One of her exes had wheedled with her to say something sexy when they were in bed together and she had told him in Ghiscari that his cunnilingus skills - all ten seconds spent tonguing her clitoris like he was licking a stamp - left something to be desired, and he had grinned and said, _thanks babe_.

"That must be useful for the foundation," Jon says.

"It is, yes," she smiles. The microloan foundation she set up as part of Dany's umbrella organisation of charities is only a few years old and she still feels a warm rush of pride anytime she talks about it. Dany had recruited her based on a single-page proposal, stealing her out from her old boss who had worked her almost to the bone for a pittance of pay, and singlehandedly making Missandei's dreams come true.

"I think it's wonderful what you're doing," he says, leaning forward and looking earnest. "I had a single mum who struggled to keep us afloat, and I know that's not the same thing as the poverty in some of the countries you work in, I just think it's really powerful, targeting women and small business, all the success you've had."

"Thank you, Jon, thanks," she says, feeling a little shy, and perhaps a little smitten. Slow down, girl, she thinks. "I'm embarrassed to say that I don't know what it is exactly you do, Dany hasn't been very forthcoming-"

"-beyond my being a bit of a disaster you mean," he teases.

"You're never going to let that go, are you."

"Unlikely," he says, sending her a flirty look over the rim of his glass. Then he sets it down and sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair. "She won't have told you what I've been doing because there was a few years in the wilderness there, so to speak. I was in the forces, joined up straight after school, but there was incident in my first year over there, an accident, I suppose, and I was discharged with my injuries."

"Oh god," she says, "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he shrugs, "well, it's not, but I've had enough therapy that it's alright," he says self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry, this is quite serious, isn't it, we've slid away from our banter."

"I want to know more about you," she says.

"Same," he says and they glance at one another and then look away, and she hopes it's not just her that's feeling giddy.

"So, you came home-" she prompts.

"I came home, raging about the injustices done to me, rambled about Dany's country estate for a bit, did several years of half-hearted gardening, wrote a book, took up photography, and this past year I've started training as a youth worker and I'm feeling really good about it."

"That sounds amazing."

"We'll see," he says, squinting hopefully.

"And you're single," she finds herself asking.

"Why, yes, I am, Missandei," he says, crossing his arms in a way he must know makes the muscles of his arms bulge. "And you?"

"I'm single as well, Jon," she says, shaking her hair back from her face.

"Well then, that's good," he says with a smile with just the right hint of leer.

"Mmm," she hums and bites her lip.

Just then her phone rings and she picks it up to see the picture she set for Dany, the one where she's climbed up a slide shaped like a dinosaur at the park, with her head tipped back in a laugh to the sky.

"I should go," she says to Jon, somewhat reluctantly, "maid of honour duties await. But I'll see you at dinner tonight?"

"For sure," he says with a nod as she answers the phone and leaves the bar, turning back to look at him watch her go, putting an extra swing in her step just for him and laughing at herself for it.

 

"So, Jon Snow-" Missandei says casually after she's finished going over flower arrangements with Dany and the wedding organiser. Drogo and his side of the wedding arrive tomorrow and Missandei knows she won't be able to drag Dany away from him for more than five minutes at a time.

"I knew it," Dany crows delightedly, flopping back on the blinding white sheets of the bed.

"So he's fit and I fancy him, whatever."

"You're smitten," Dany says, turning on to her front. She's put two of tomorrow's flowers in her hair and looks like some kind of fairy queen.

"Am not," Missandei says, lying beside her, reaching over to play with the bangles around Dany's wrists. "But seriously, I've only had a single conversation with him. It's a physical attraction, that's all."

"Mmm," Dany says knowingly. "He is fit, isn't he."

"And also your _nephew._ "

"I'm not blind, it doesn't mean I want to shag him."

" _Shag_ , are you twelve?"

Dany sticks her tongue out and Missandei laughs. Dany is the best friend she's been looking for, waiting for, for years and years, and though she was wary at first when they got friendly, Dany being technically her boss, it's only made working at Dragonstone Inc. that much better.

"He's a good guy, Jon, he's mellowed out over the years. When I first met him he was so easily outraged about all the injustices he saw around him, he couldn't handle it, but he's found a focus now, a balance."

"Like you," Missandei says, thinking about what Dany has told her about her early twenties, her misguided attempts at trying to set up her own charities with so few connections in-country. Now Dragonstone Inc. is a model organisation and Dany has the awards and, more importantly, the letters from those she's helped, to show for it.

"Like aunt like nephew."

"It's still a bit strange that you're the same age."

"Blame brother dearest," Dany says with a sigh, "and the charms of Jon's mum. He got his looks from her, I think, those dark eyes and curls."

They're quiet for a moment, thinking about lost parents and family, as the warm wind shifts the gauzy curtains in the honeymoon suite. It's surprising how quickly Missandei has gotten used to luxury like this; she tried to refuse all Dany's kind offers at first - the tickets to the ballet, the gift cards from clothing boutiques, the baskets full of fancy food - thinking that it was just charity before Dany wore her down with the way she looked so genuinely upset, apologising profusely if she made Missandei uncomfortable, saying that she just wanted to share some of her good fortune with her friends.

"Now, what are you going to _wear,_ " Dany says, clambering up from the bed, blowing her hair out of her face and setting her hands on her hips determinedly.

"When?"

"Tonight! At dinner with Jon," she waggles her eyebrows. "I mean he'll love you in anything, you're gorgeous, you know that, right?" she rambles, searching through her suitcase. "But what about this," she says, holding up a gauzy red dress.

"Will it not be too short for me?"

"Maybe, but that'll make it look hotter."

"Alright then, mannequin me," Missandei says, holding her arms out and closing her eyes, smiling as Dany laughs and runs across the room, thinking that she's so happy to be here now with her.

 

Jon is late to dinner and Missandei has almost given up on him, conjuring up some blonde beach bunny he must have run into, picturing the both of them writhing around underneath a palm tree, before he comes stumbling in out of breath, his hair a wild cloud. "Sorry, sorry," he says, "got into a bit of trouble with my windsurf. First lesson," he explains, taking the seat opposite Missandei that belongs to Dany who's on her way back from the bar with a new bottle of wine. "Oh is this-" he says, flustered, pointing to the seat.

"You go right ahead, Jon," Dany says with a wink.

"See, _she_ can wink, why can't you?" Missandei asks as Jon takes a seat.

He shakes his head. "God, Missandei, way to welcome me after my near-death experience."

"Was there a shark?" she asks with a smirk, noticing as his eyes trace the slit in her dress that bares her cleavage.

"There might have been," he says with a sniff. "Or it might have been a very large fish and I might have fallen off my board and gotten tangled up in the rig while shouting for help."

"That's terrible, poor baby," she says, touching his arm, feeling his muscles jump under her fingers. She bites her lip as he looks at her knowingly. It's a while since she's felt this fizzing flirtiness with anyone. It's like the sun and the cocktails here have gone to her head. "Were you wounded badly?"

"Would you kiss it better if I said I was?" he says and she rolls her eyes. "Nah, just my pride, but to be honest there wasn't much left after I humiliated myself at yoga this morning."

"Why did you take that class, there was a beginners one straight afterwards."

"Well you see," he says, thanking the waiter as he sets down their plates of fresh seafood and salads, "I had my eye on this gorgeous girl, and she was taking the advanced class."

"Oh you did, did you," she says, trying to stop smiling.

"I confess that I did, a craven plan I know," he says, holding a hand on his chest, "will you forgive me my subterfuge?"

"Perhaps," she says and then slides her foot towards his underneath the table. "Or perhaps you can make it up to me tonight," she says and he gives her a look best described as smouldering.

"Well, I better save some of my appetite for later then," he says, smirking as he takes a bite of his food.

"Oh it's like that, is it," she says, running a hand across her collarbone, feeling her stomach flutter.

"It is," he says confidently.

"Big words."

"I can live up to them, don't you worry, I might not be as flexible as a yogi but I have skills where they count."

"You've certainly got the gift of the gab, Jon Snow."

"Thank you," he says and then laughs. "But if you had met me five years ago you wouldn't have said that. My game then mostly consisted of standing next to a girl looking sullen and bored and hoping she might talk to me first. It was hopeless. Luckily my first girlfriend was the type to take charge, so it worked for her."

"Do you like that then, for the girl to take the lead?" she asks.

"I like a bit of both, like you do, I'm guessing, but what I really really like-" he says, leaning forward across the table as she leans forward too, like she's mesmerised by his hot gaze, "is to go down on a girl so thoroughly that she's useless for anything else afterwards."

"You do, do you," she says breathlessly.

His eyes flick to her mouth and then lower. "Are you done eating dinner?" he asks.

"I am," she says, even though she's only had a few bites.

"Let's go then," he says, standing up so swiftly the chair legs shriek against the floor but he doesn't look like he cares that everyone else has now turned to look at them, as he takes her hand and pulls her from the restaurant.

"My room?" he says.

"Yes," she says as he tugs her towards him and kisses her, a hand on the nape of her neck, his tongue hot in her mouth.

"If we make it there," he says breathlessly, as her own hands start to roam across his back and she squeezes a firm arsecheek.

"You're not giving me head against a palm tree, Jon."

"As my lady wishes," he says and then bends to hoist her up into his arms as she shrieks with laughter. "I'm not flexible, but I am strong."

"Flexibility is over-rated," she says between kisses, as he stumbles blindly along the path carrying her. "Strength and a talented tongue will do."

"I've got a nice dick too," he says and she laughs so hard he has to set her down, wheezing as he looks delighted with himself for setting her off.

"Let's go," she says, pulling him along now, praying she doesn't get the hiccups.

"I was trying to get us there quickly, but someone felt like laughing." He crowds behind her, holding her by the waist as he guides her to the right door and once he's unlocked it, he pushes her against the inside of it, pressing his body against hers.

She feels like purring at the feel of all those firm muscles, at the substantial bulge pressing right where she needs it.

"God," he says, as he smears his mouth down her neck and bites at her shoulders. "This dress, I thought you were going to kill me."

"Take this off," she says, plucking at his t-shirt.

He pulls it over his head, and she pats his tufts of hair down with a smile, and then gets distracted by his six-pack.

"You going to ask me to flex for you?" he teases, and she pays him back by reaching to untie her halterneck and letting the top of her dress fall to her waist.

" _Fuck_ ," he groans and ducks to mouth at her tits, sucking one nipple and then the other as she sinks her fingers into his curls. His hands fumble at her waist for the buttons and then he tugs the rest of her dress down to the floor and kneels in front of her.

She swallows at the picture he makes and then he leans forward and puts his mouth over her knickers, breathing in noisily and making her blush and squirm. He licks her through the fabric and rubs his nose along the seam, scratching his beard against her thighs as he shoulders them apart.

"Going to rip these, sorry," he says and then does just that, flinging her knickers behind him as he tilts her hips up, broad hands cupping her bottom, and gets to work with his tongue, delving into the furrows of her cunt, swirling around her clitoris and sucking at it, sliding one hand behind to fit a thick finger inside of her and then two as she moans and her hips pulse.

"God, Jon," she says as he laves her expertly, flicking his tongue, teasing her, kissing her, curling his fingers forward in just the right way, his face pressed so tightly against her pubic bone that it almost hurts, and then she comes with a sob, nails digging in to his scalp and thighs trembling.

He leans back, staring up at her with his lips messy and red. "Good?" he asks cockily.

She nods, breathless. "You weren't lying," she says.

"Oh, that's just the starter, sweetheart," he says and she'd like to roll her eyes as his use of that pet name but she's totally into it. And then he pulls her over to the bed and pushes her down, taking off his shorts and boxer-briefs, baring a rather lovely looking cock before he kneels down and tugs her hips towards him to eat her out again.

 

Later - after three incredible orgasms that really did make her useless for a good half an hour, body humming and a giggle trapped in her throat as he lay alongside her and continued to be annoyingly charming and gorgeous; then a breather so they could both gulp down cold water from the tap and tear into the room service that Dany had somehow had sent to his room; and after she had shown him the particular merits of flexibility, and the results of her dedication to yoga, to his swearing hot-eyed approval, and he had proved the importance of strength when it came to holding her up against the wall and then kneeling on the bed to thrust into her from behind, the bedframe making an ominous sharp sound as it cracked against the wall with every devastating roll of his hips, as she moaned embarrassingly loud and came with a wail while he grunted behind her, calling out her name as he came with a shudder – they lie on top of the bed and let the night air wick the sweat from their skin.

"I feel like I'm actually speechless," she says woozily, and totally ineloquently, "like, I have no conversation topics at all, my mind is just a quiet hum."

"A satisfied hum?" he asks, voice gravelly as he shifts to lie closer to her. He's comfortable with his body in a way that's so attractive. She's spotted the scars that must be from his accident but she doesn't want to ruin the mood by mentioning them. Maybe another time, she thinks, and then tries to tamp down that idea, because there's no saying that he wants to do this again.

"Oh, yes, exemplary," she says, laying her head on his chest.

"You weren't so bad yourself," he says, mouth twitching.

She sighs, "ruining the moment, Jon."

"Oh, there was a moment, was there," he remarks, tipping up her chin with his thumb so he can kiss her. His mouth is sour and hot and she swears she could kiss him for hours yet, until both of their lips are sore.

"Well I think I did quite well tonight, considering the disaster of the yoga, and the windsurfing accident."

"Top marks. But then," she says, sliding a thigh between his, feeling the pleasant catch of his hair against her skin, "I have no idea if your skills were a one off, rookie luck, you know."

" _Rookie luck_ , she says," he drawls, pushing her onto her back and holding himself up on his hands, rocking his hips into hers. "You're saying you'd like to do this again then."

"Just to check," she says nonchalantly, as he dips his head to kiss one of her nipples, to bite it gently while he stares at her with those dark eyes of his.

"That sounds wise. It's a date," he says with a small smile as she pulls him up to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

 _You know what they say about weddings_ , Dany had told her on the plane over when Missandei had complained about her singledom.

But she doesn't think that this has anything to do with weddings, it's just Jon, although she won't tell him that, she thinks, her eyes rolling back as he thrusts into her and calls her _sweetheart_ again, not just yet at least.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> please comment, I'd love to hear what people think! :)
> 
> my tumblr: [framboise-fics](http://framboise-fics.tumblr.com)
> 
> and there's a rebloggable photoset [here](https://framboise-fics.tumblr.com/post/175378663527/you-know-your-aunt-said-you-were-a-bit-of-a#notes)


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